Navne and the Panoply of Tides
by fuchsteufelswild
Summary: Caught in the midst of uncertain times a lone stingray, Navne, falls victim to a parasitic plague. Lost and badly wounded, she washes up on the shores of Iceberg Isle where she attempts to heal and recover her sense of self. But predators linger in the shadow of the isle, both within and without, and the past is not so easily forgotten. (OC)(Slow-burn)(Eventual romance)
1. One: Mendacium

The vase shattered at the very same moment, and in just as many pieces, as her heart.

Twitching fingers, bated breath.

Navne watched as Kel stumbled, clutching her stomach. She watched as the colour drained from Kel's face. She watched as Kel's lips parted, a single rasping whisper emerging with horror so as such that Navne would never forget it. Not until the day she died.

"No."

She had them. Kel had contracted the Matryoshka. A sweet sounding name for a vicious, devastating parasite.

Someone was screaming, pointing to the violent blush that was spreading over Kel's skin like ink within water. The parasites bred quickly. Navne had never seen them up close before, but she had heard that the gradual disfigurement had a strange beauty to it. In the moment, there was no beauty. Just fear. Blinding fear.

Kel met her gaze, and she saw tears in her sister's eyes. Kel never cried. But they both knew the Guard would be there soon. There to burn away the taint.

To burn her Kel.

Navne reached for her sister, even knowing that she mustn't. The creatures were always eager for a new host. But this was Kel, her Kel, the little sister she had raised from day one. And her Kel was reaching for her.

"Don't let them take me." Kel was trembling, but her gaze was fire. "Don't let them take me. Please. Please, sister. Don't-"

Navne's fingertips had barely reached her sister when she was ripped out from under them. Black currents hissed through her hands, her fins, wrenching her little Kel into a flurry of gray. The world was a swarm of hands and eyes and blackened helms, judgement weighing the irreplaceable flame of life before her. And Navne was screaming. Screaming for the Guard to let go of her, let go of her sister. For the Matryoshka to let go of her sister. For someone, anyone, to help.

Someone.

 _Anyone_.

Please.

 _"Let her go!"_

Don't take her -

Anything but her.

 _"Take me instead!"_

Cold eyes watching her. Evaluating. Was she infected too?

 _"She hasn't done anything!"_

Verdict: guilty.

You'll ruin us all, you foolish little girl.

"Please!"

Pleading.

Begging.

Threatening.

Thrashing, thrashing, thrashing.

Biting, clawing, screaming.

There was no one to break the lance of pain. It was wedged deeply in her chest, snapping each one of her bones.

Bones.

That was all they left her.

Bones.

Little Kel.

Sister.

Family.

Navne closed her eyes and let the tide take her.

* * *

"Have you ever seen the Matryoshka before, Navne?"

Navne tugged at the clam in her hands, struggling to open it. "Mmmmm, well... What do you think?"

"I don't think you have."

"Then you, dearest Kel, would be thinking wrong. Hand me that rock, would you?"

Kel crossed her arms. "Have you or haven't you?"

"Maybe I have and I haven't. Rock?"

"You either have or you haven't. You can't be both."

Navne's eyes darted from the clam to her sister. "Rock. Hand me the rock."

"Truth. Hand me the truth," Kel met her gaze evenly before adding, "Cavewoman."

"Hmph. You forget that this cavewoman is in possession of your snack and your truth. Both of which you can't get without me."

"Nuh-uh. I'll just get myself another clam."

"Yes, but you know that I'm better at opening them," Navne countered, "And you can't get yourself another truth. Not if it's mine that you want, at least."

Kel held her ground for a moment before averting her eyes. Grumbling, she placed the stone in her sister's hands. "Just you wait. Once I grow out, I'll be the one pushing you around."

"You'd like to imagine that, wouldn't you~?" Navne gave her a toothy grin, cracking the clam open with one swift blow. "But you forget that you're already about fully grown... And still so small!"

"I am not small! You're only slightly taller than I am!"

Navne's eyes lit up. "So you admit that I'm taller!"

"I said slightly. Slightly!"

"Ah ah~. You've admitted that you're short! And that I'm tall!"

Kel huffed, snatching the softened mollusk from her sister. "I did not! I was only admitting that smugness is a vice. And that pride comes before the fall!"

"Yes, yes. Of course~. We all know that you are a generous, benevolent, and, especially, gracious ruler." Navne affectionately patted her sister's hair.

"Stop that!" Kel swatted at her hand. "You should know your place, servant!"

"Ooh~. A servant, am I?"

"Yes! And when I'm stronger, I'll be king of the whole Family. And I'll hire you as my personal clam-opening servant!"

Navne grinned, sweeping her sleeves back in the mockery of a bow. "Why, I would be positively honoured, Your Majesty! I will open those tough, warrior-like shells! You need never sully your soft, fragile arms!"

"Hey! My arms are not-"

Her protest was cut short as Navne darted between the swaying reeds, snatching away the very clam she had first offered. Altogether too late, Kel tried to salvage the treat.

"That's mine!"

Navne wagged a finger at her. "Snooze, you lose! Took you too long to eat it, Your Majesty."

Kel's hands balled in fists as she watched her sister devour what was rightly hers. "That's Your Gracious Majesty to you! And you owe me three - no - five clams for that impudence!"

Navne's laughter echoed through the forest of kelp.


	2. Two: Dolor

A thousand razor tongues bathed her skin, punishing exposed skin and reddening broken flesh. Her body swayed limply in the ceaseless tide, up and down, up and down, till even the gentlest of beckoning was like a cruel torch to her battered frame.

Navne was exhausted.

She couldn't think. Thoughts were far too painful.

She could barely find it in herself to pull water through her gills. As if all but the most necessary of functions had ceased, her soul sucked clean of the broken vessel it inhabited. Her eyes pointed with the hollowness of the dead whichever direction the sea took her. She couldn't recall how she came to be where she was, nor cared, but she could remember flashes. Tiny, flickering snapshots of happenings that brushed over her senses.

Flickers of green and red amidst the rolling cerulean.

Sand clouding the world, kicked up by desperate fins.

The taste of blood and something sweet on her tongue.

An angry tiger shark with a vast, open maw.

Something hard prodding her side and darkness dappling her view.

A brilliant shock of light splitting the heavens asunder.

A storm.

Rain.

 _Kel_.

A stab of deep, dark, heart wrenching pain tore her throat and lungs. Her jaw trembled, lips parting and closing as the cry struggled to escape her.

No, no. No, no, no _nononononono_.

Don't think.

 _Don'tthinkdon'tthinkdonthinkdonthnink._

Her hands clenched, forming makeshift claws. She felt something dig into her flesh as she did, and the water came away bloody. The blood brought red to her vision.

Red.

Like Kel's hair in the sunlight.

Pain clamoured at her side.

And she broke.

She bit into the swaying brown before her, a furious storm of teeth and claws and tail. With an energy she'd never known she possessed, she tore and she ripped and she shredded. Something - something immense was screaming in a voice she knew she never had. She felt her tail strike flesh, injecting poisonous cells into her target.

She was going to destroy them.

Totally. And utterly.

Again.

And again.

As many times as it took.

She felt bone crunch beneath her teeth, and reveled in it.

Suffer.

Suffer as I have.

Die.

Die.

 _Diedieidiediediediediediediediediediedie-_

* * *

He smelt the blood before he saw it.

He'd been lolling on the coast that afternoon, considering stirring up a bit of trouble to sate his boredom. His favourite Shirokuma had been glued to her cabin, and the little Wolf King had made himself scarce. Added to the fact that the mail was late (mail which contained his precious cigarettes, no less!), it had been looking like a disappointing end to a disappointing week.

That was, of course, before a peal of distressed thrashing caught his eye.

Pain, anger, fear, hunger... They all had different intonations. This particular was giving off the very distinctive impression of pain. It was a given that he'd investigate; wounded prey was a favourite of his.

His sharp senses honed in on the silver glimmer, beckoned by hunger and a particular kind of curiosity. Bloodbaths weren't entirely uncommon - not for _him_ at least. Especially when his prey was the fussy sort that tended to bleed themselves to death trying to run away.

Well.

He didn't mind it so much. He preferred his prey to die at his hand, not by their own stupidity, but a bloodbath _without_ him... Now that was something entirely new.

The action was over by the time he arrived. Bits of severed flesh floated through the water in arrant, tattered chunks. Idate ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting the blood. The experience was surprising pleasing.

With the quantity of blood, someone was probably dead...

Rather -

\- rather, someone was _definitely_ dead.

Idate watched with dry amusement as the mutilated corpse of a sea lion emerged from the murky taint. He'd been hunting this morsel a few weeks ago. The long gash across her tail, still healing from his bite, was evidence of the fact. But as for the rest of her...

Someone had made short work of sea lion. She'd been fully ravaged from head to fin, great gouges in her tanned skin exposing layers of fat and alabaster bone. One fin had nearly been torn entirely from her body, and her killer was still locked in a bloody clasp around her neck.

He took a puff of his cigarette, deliberating the scene. That seal - what was her name again? Mika? Miku? Moku?

Well-

\- it didn't matter so much, now did it? He didn't fancy scraps. What he _might_ fancy was a bite of whatever got to her. The seal had been a fun distraction with a nice little nip. If the fellow had the cheek to challenge her, it would have to be marginally impressive at the very least.

"It's certainly an impressive mess."

Idate inclined his head as the perpetrator came into clarity. It's face was obscured behind that of the sea lion, but he could make out sharp teeth and stiff posture. A thin, barbed tail coiled around the corpse, ripping at the dead flesh around it.

"... Oho. You're a stingray?"

Which brought into question just how a stingray had floated itself this far from warmer waters. Or how one of those pliant pancakes had actually managed to kill a sea lion. But those weren't the kinds of question Idate was interested in asking.

"Are you dead?"

The only important question, really, when all things were considered. If it was alive, it might put up a nice fight. If was dead... That was that. At least he'd been treated to an amusing sight.

A low hiss.

His eyes flickered as he watched the stingray react to his presence. They were slow, pained motions which revealed the very kind of weakness he enjoyed preying on. But it bared white teeth at him all the same.

A slow smile slid over his lips.

This was turning out to be an enjoyable afternoon, indeed.


	3. Three: Benediction

"... You broke my fishing pole."

"I- uh…"

"... Worthless."

"...!"

"C-Come now, Rock. It isn't broken, see? It's just a dent."

"Dented my fishing pole, then. He's still worthless."

"Rock! That's too cruel!"

Rock turned up his beak in disgruntled expression, watching as Shirogane ran from their retreat with his tail between his legs. It didn't really matter what they were doing - fishing, eating, even relaxing… Things were prone to end with the cowardly wolf in tears. It ticked him off, to put it mildly. If the wolf couldn't keep himself together, and couldn't be bothered to take care of the equipment in his charge, then he shouldn't come along in the first place. And Rock told him so.

"Shirogane, wait!" Yukisada called after his companion, his eyes darting between the two. "Shirogane is really sensitive, Rock… You know he didn't mean to do any harm, right?"

Rock grunted. "Then he should say so himself. I'm not gonna fish with 'em again."

The resounding wail told him that the wolf had been listening. The sound really grated on his nerves.

Yukisada gave him an apologetic motion before turning to follow his friend. Rock didn't mind the owl so much - he made good fishing company from time to time. And he, at least, made an effort to be courteous and considerate of his surrounding.

Rock huffed into his line, tugging roughly but not too roughly. Hopefully something would catch and improve his day, if marginally. If not, his temper was cooking up a storm.

"R-Rock-"

The penguin turned to give Yukisada the evil eye. If this was about that cowardly wolf again-

He paused.

He'd been inclined to scoffing, if not giving a few jabs, but there was something about the expression on Yukisada's face that struck him as intensely sobering. Real fear and confusion - though Rock narrowed his eyes at the thought that it might revolve around Shirogane.

 _Again_.

"O-O-Over there-!"

If the wolf was drowning because he hadn't looked where he was going, that was his doing. _He_ wasn't planning on getting involved. But Rock's wayward glance eventually wandered in the direction the owl was pointing.

His beak clicked in agitation.

A bloody lump was groveling in the ice. It was crawling like a massive red worm and Rock immediately disliked it - whatever it was. Giant, ugly, bloody worm. An angry rattle built in his chest.

"W-We need to help them!"

Rock begged to differ. He simply watched as the owl rushed to the worm, fussing over the mess it was making. As Yukisada propped the worm up over his shoulder, however, Rock saw it was not, in fact, a giant worm. Rather - something vaguely more of anthropoid in nature than vermicular. Still, the penguin found himself unable to reconcile a positive image of the thing after it had behaved as a worm. First impressions were a total flop.

Yukisada was, by this time, half carrying, half dragging the wormlike creature. The owl planned to take his worm-burden to his clinic, no doubt. Not the best idea. There was considerable distance from the fringe where they fished and the village centre, and a thick trail of blood was oozing from his patient. From the looks of it the thing was even missing a limb or two.

"... Hey."

Yukisada's chest was rising and falling heavily from his efforts, but his wide eyes glanced Rock's way.

"..." Rock's expression twisted. "... Leave it."

"W-What?"

"... It's almost dead. There's no point."

Yukisada's lip trembled. "I-I can't do that."

Rock held his gaze for a moment. Even if it came from books, the owl was the closest thing to a doctor as they had on the island. In all likelihood, he knew just as well as the penguin that this one was a goner already. There was no merit in dragging the prone form into his clinic, no point in dwelling over a life that would be snuffed in short moments. Rock had seen various drifters like this one wasted by the orca. They rarely survived.

The owl hadn't budged. Rock muttered something darkly under his breath before roughly shrugging. "... Fine."

* * *

His patient did not awaken that day.

Or the next.

Or the next.

Although her eyes opened, curved pupils flexing under the light, there was no sign of consciousness from within. She would not rise to greet anyone, her mouth only moving mechanically at the presence of food, and she did not respond to outside stimuli. Tidings did not phase her, whether they came in gentle prodding or heavier handed threats.

Word had spread quickly, as it was inevitable that it would on such a small island, and the residents had each taken turns investigating this new oddity. Most went away disappointed, finding the shell dull and uninteresting. A few lingered, thinking of new and creative ways to provoke an interesting response. But still, the stingray did not stir from her deep and dreamless sleep. Yukisada was nearing his wit's end trying to care for his lifeless patient, and the urging of his neighbours to drop the project hung heavy in the air.

Yukisada collapsed over the mattress he had pulled from storage, hoping for a snatch of sleep to ease his nerves. His stomach growled miserably in response, protesting his daily forgetfulness. With eyes closed, all he could see was a warm, freshly baked lemon poppyseed muffin.

"... On second thought, maybe I won't rest. I'd rather not have another lemon poppyseed dream." He mumbled the words more to himself than his patient. He had taken to such little things as speaking to her, even as she refused to speak back. It made the long hours seem a little less harsh, and the silence a little less solemn.

"I told you about the last lemon poppyseed dream, right? The one where the muffins had wings and sharp teeth." Yukisada shuddered at the thought. "They ate everything… Even my house. I thought I'd never want lemon poppyseed muffins after that, but here I am, craving them again. I guess I like them a little too much."

Her breath faltered. Yukisada whipped his gaze over her, a desperate hope flaring in his eyes. He waited with bated breath.

A moment, two… Three… Four, five...

Her breath steadied. The constant rasp he had first found reassuring, and now eerie. His shoulders slumped. Of course… Of course, she hadn't recovered. Yukisada rolled over, facing the wall opposite to her, not wanting to look into her lifeless eyes any longer.

The silence was deafening.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I'm sorry. I…" His voice faltered, and Yukisada pulled his arms over his face. "... I don't know if I can save you. I want to. I really want to. But… I..."

" _I know."_

Yukisada shot straight up, wincing as his head violently resisted the sharp motion. He clutched his head with one hand, eyes darting over his patient. He hardly believed it himself, but he swore he saw a faint glimmer of life in her golden eyes.

Had he imagined it?

Was he starting to hear things? See things?

But then it came again, a rasping voice like steel scraped over ice. " _It's alright."_

He watched, with his very own eyes, as her mouth parted, the sound accompanied by a helpless shrug. And in that moment, his jubilance overcame the solemn atmosphere her demeanor projected. His hands clasped hers, eyes illuminated in delight.

"You're alive! You're really alive! All this time, I thought you might-" he coughed, breaking his hold as he caught his bearings, "I- ah, I mean, I knew you were alive. But not alive, alive. I-I mean, of course you're alive, I didn't mean it like that, but-"

Even if it sounded strange, he couldn't contain the feeling. After a week of sleepless nights, and an ever overbearing sense of dread - if not despair, crippling any positive light… His emotions had swelled to unprecedented heights, and they bubbled over what restraints might have kept the tide at bay.

"- I'm so glad you're alive!"


	4. Four: Hostilia

_**Brief shout-out to Jio~!**_ ** _Ice-Scream is a notoriously difficult series to strain canon information from, so I've been doing my best to fill in the gaps and give a bit of life to the characters. And, on that note, it's all the more reason to thank you_** _ **for your generous reviews! I can't tell you how wonderful it is to receive your feedback, and hear that you're enjoying the story! It really encouraged me to iron out this next chapter. I hope you can continue to read and enjoy the story as it progresses!**_

 _ **- Pyth**_

* * *

Navne did not necessarily take the world in stride, but she allowed herself to experience slivers of it. She couldn't find it in herself to succumb to the swaying heights of emotion, but she let hot tea warm her. Let the pillows be soft. Let the winter breeze be chilly.

Simple things, simple experiences.

But experiences, all the same.

That was something, at least.

Yukisada had been doing his best to keep visitors from bombarding her after she "awakened". The curtains were drawn around the bed where she slept, and the little owl had even gone so far as to craft a handmade sign stating her visiting hours. Thirteen-thirty to fourteen-thirty, Mondays and Wednesdays. This, of course, did not succeed in keeping the most determined of residents from entering. Someone had even snuck in and drawn a picture on the corner of the sign that looked suspiciously like an angry stingray with giant fangs and a razor sharp tail. Yukisada had disapproved, but Peraco had found the sign immensely amusing and asked to keep it after Yukisada was finished with it.

All in all, some time passed as Navne… Recovered.

Recovery, it turned out, was expected to take a while. She'd lost her left arm from the elbow down, a mass of healing tissue across her flesh. And her tail... Her tail had been completely ripped from her body. The former she considered only with vague numbness, ignoring it wherever possible. Most times, so long as she didn't stare directly (and even sometimes when she did) she could still feel her hand. It itched hourly. The flesh, the bone, the sinew…

The latter, her tail, dwelt like a black cloud over her, coiling around her throat and threatening to choke her. Stingray tails were… Especially important. They denoted pride and status. And although she was hardly in touch with herself, that pride was ingrained to a painful degree. Disassociation was easier.

 _Yes… Much easier._

It was difficult to reconcile the feeling, when one lacked... _Feeling_.

But at times made a little less easy with her constant caretaker. Yukisada was mindful not to ask her direct questions about what happened (something she was grateful for), but he continually engaged her. Often mundane things like her favourite food or colour, and he gave more than he received. He hadn't always wanted to be a doctor. In fact, his mother had always told him she thought he would make a wonderful teacher. It wasn't until he realized that he really enjoyed science, as well as helping people, that he decided to take up medicine. Yukisada had smiled sheepishly then, adding that it didn't hurt that everyone would come to him when they were injured, anyway.

Small as they might have been, these conversations lent a sense of reality to what would otherwise have been like a faint dream… Or nightmare, really. They grounded Navne somewhat, as a constant reminder that she could place some certainty in things which did not exist solely in her head. At times she wondered at that - whether this whole thing was a dream her dying mind had fabricated. She'd always been a storyteller and her dreams were usually vivid. So it wouldn't have been so surprising if that were the case.

…

… But she would have liked for her last dream to have been a dream about Kel.

...

"What would you like for dinner tonight, Navne?"

Navne glanced up. He'd caught her staring into the wall again. She gave him a slow blink - a sign that she was in thought.

"Hm." Navne inclined her head. "Would you… Like me to make something tonight?"

She saw him hesitate, his eyes involuntarily flickering over her missing limb. From somewhere beneath the blanket of numbness, she felt a mild sting at her pride. If he was contesting her ability to function with a disadvantage…

No, no... He was simply being considerate. She knew this much - Yukisada had been working day and night to tend to her. Something he did not need to do. Something he certainly did not need to do…

A brilliant smile blossomed across Yukisada's pale face. "Yes, yes, of course! That would be wonderful! What would you like to make? I have tubers and dried seaweed, though I'm a bit low on berries… Oh! How about a soup? I have all the ingredients for one."

"Alright."

Despite the fact that she had volunteered her services, the owl anxiously lingered over her side for the duration. She was still adjusting to life in her new state. Things she had taken for granted, as simple as moving from the bed to the kitchen, were suddenly challenging without a tail to steady and a hand to support. When her fingers slipped on the cutting board, Yukisada swooped in to grab it, insisting that he take over the chopping. When her dominant hand started to tire from rinsing vegetables, he urged that she take a break and finished cleaning the rest for her. So Navne sat, instead, watching as he prepared the meal. Yukisada kept a gentle stream of chatter, but it made her feel strangely congested.

Navne pushed open a window, trying to clear the smoke from the room and her head.

"For someone so bloodthirsty, this is a pretty domestic picture."

A low, languid accent that betrayed an earned confidence. It called from beyond the window as if it was meant to be there.

Yukisada froze as she sharply inhaled. She knew that voice.

Oh, she _knew_ it.

"Navn-"

Before Yukisada could stop her, she vaulted from the sill in one swift motion. The owl's distressed cries called out after her, but she couldn't hear them anymore. She landed in the snow, crouched low to the ground. Her senses were honed entirely on the suited figure leaning against the wall. Her heart was in her throat. Her blood thrummed. Her chest heaved.

She knew this figure.

"How's the arm treating you?" The orca gave her a lazy smile, lifting himself from the wall. "Oh, my bad. It probably isn't treating you at all, hm? Since it's gone."

A snarl bubbled in her throat, burning all the way up. She was going to kill him.

His eyes were churning. "Haha. Someone's keen. Well, I'm glad I got to meet you again. After all… We had a lot of fun last time, didn't we?"

Particles of snow exploded in furious flurries as she charged at him. It was foolish. It was reckless. It was violating the authoritative voice in the back of her mind that told Navne she was outmatched, outgunned, and in no condition to fight. That revenge was better served cold. But no - she could no more hear it than the owl behind her. There was only one objective: to tear that man apart.

Her claw glanced off his collar as he swung aside. She was badly off balance, stumbling without her tail for guidance. But she came at him again with a low roundhouse. Unperturbed, he sidestepped. He watched with amusement as she stumbled again.

"You sure you should be doing that? You're not faring so well, little flapjack."

Die.

Die die died-iediedi-ediediediediediediedie-

His grin widened. He seemed pleased.

Navne could feel the invisible cords of her missing hand tightened and convulse beneath her rage, as her corporeal one would. She grounded herself, ready this time when he came for her. The blow was every bit as crippling as she expected it to be. Like a sack of bricks to her gut. But she braced for it, letting the reverberations move through her rather than resisting.

It still forced her back, her boots grappling with the ice below. His strength was nothing to scoff at. That blow would have killed any of her _Lessers_. But she was still going to kill him.

"Oho."

The orca flicked his cigarette. Flakes of ash drifted from the end in lazy spirals as the wind picked up. He was on her before they touched the snow. His boot connected with her stomach with a solid crunch. She flew through the air, her mind only catching up as the ice skinned her exposed flesh. This time he pursued her retreat, ready to strike again. A monstrous streak of black.

Navne drove her boots into the snow, kicking up a storm of snow and ice. The orca reacted a second too slow. The moment he closed his eyes she sprang forward. Her enduring hand curved in a furious claw, she slashed across his face hearing his pained hiss. She came away bloody and triumphant.

Her enemy retreated a short distance, one gloved hand cradling the injury. He tested it, wiping the blood from his unmarred eye. Navne cursed. A wicked looking gash was carved from one side of his brow to the other, curved near his eye. But missing it. He would recover quickly.

Blood poured down his face, dripping from his chin. His bloodied grin was wide enough to devour. He surged forward, overpowering her one-armed guard with a rough strike to her ribs. As she fell he seized her arm and dragged her into the air. Navne thrashed, aiming her heels for his jaw. She felt her kick connect, pleased despite the danger as his head snapped back.

"Ow!" He staggered.

Navne struggled to free herself as he faltered. Two fingers slipped through his grasp before the grip constricted. Tightening, rather than relinquishing it, as he held her with both arms, now. Stars sprung over her vision. Navne gasped, struggling beneath the punishing pressure at her remaining wrist. Tendered by a white hot flame, she felt him push her bones to the limit.

He was still toying with her.

She strangled the cries in her throat rather than grant him the satisfaction of a scream.

His teeth were bared in gruesome simper, his eyes glittering in sadistic enjoyment. "I think I'll take this one too. The first was quite… Tasty."

* * *

A simple punch.

Hard and fast, the first strike connected squarely at the side of his unsightly mug.

The second was a little less swift, but no less punishing. The orca dropped his trophy in a battered heap as Rocma's assault intensified, driving him off the edge of the ice. His lips parted in an astonished 'o' before he hit the water with a hard splash. The sound was satisfying, certainly, but Rocma found a greater pleasure purely in not having to look upon him. And the fact that he'd be taking home a collection of dark bruises and one _very_ angry looking gash.

Her expression soured. The stench of tobacco still lingered in the air, adding insult to injury. He'd had the gall to march into the centre of the village, tainted the area with his presence, and tried to eat Yukisada's patient.

... And he wondered why she hated him.

Rocma circled around the battered stingray, keeping a vigilant watch on the water lest the orca surface once more. The stingray was clutching her stomach with one hand, her breath coming in heavy rasps. Rocma's gaze darted to her and back.

Of all the villagers, Rocma had been one of the few who hadn't bothered to investigate the newcomer in detail. Once she'd established that the stingray was an inoffensive presence, more inclined to peaceful pursuits than attacking others, she had been satisfied. Unless the stingray caused trouble, or overstayed her welcome, there was no reason to push the point further.

…?

….

"Did he take your arm?" The question was posed without inflection.

The stingray licked her lips. "Yes."

Rocma's brows knit together. She didn't like that answer. Not how the stingray said the words, so to speak, for she had responded in a voice as dull as the one with which Rocma had asked. No, it it was more the way the words settled in the pit of her stomach. Like she had swallowed a bad fish. She wanted to rid herself of the sensation as soon as possible.

"... What was that doing out this far?"

"Round," the stingray coughed, red blood on her lips, "Round two."

"..."

Rocma didn't like that answer either.

She would have pressed the ray for details, but the feeling had fermented. She was beginning to think she might not like any of the answers surrounding this happening.

"Navne!"

A frantic voice shattered the gloom. Rocma could see clearly the shape of Yukisada's _ahoge_ above the gathering cloud of snow, pulling Shirogane in tow. The wolf had taken it upon himself to bring along a long black harpoon.

... Hmph.

... Still wouldn't have made it in time.

"Navne, are you alright?!"

The stingray stirred, struggling to get to her feet.

"No, Navne, don't get up! I-I brought a medical kit, just-"

And toppled to the ice.

Rocma considered the ray. And while her paws did not move to prevent the ray from falling, they did prop her on her side to prevent her from choking on her own blood. Strange. And strangely discomforting. The ray's ribs should have been broken from the blow, but she detected only bruising. Hm. Injured or not, the ray inspired a sense of caution. Now that Rocma had the chance to observe her up close, she was beginning to rectify her judgement. The ray had been fighting the orca with a savagery that had the potential to be dangerous.

...

 _... If you pose a threat to this island, I will remove you._


End file.
